


Just a Game

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s family and friends worry about the dangerous game Potter plays with Draco’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Game

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [parapraxis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807306) by [pasdexcuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasdexcuses/pseuds/pasdexcuses). 



> Thank you D for reading through this for me.

Draco never cared about Longbottom’s stupid Remembrall; he’d only wanted to look at it for a second. He’d heard of them before, but never seen one. Potter, of course, had to turn _nothing_ into a fight about, well, nothing. So Draco flew away with it, and then threw the toy when Potter threatened to knock him off his broom. Even though it meant Potter had to break the rules, he flew after the cheap toy after Draco had launched it in the air and caught it.

The next day, after the whole school knew that Potter not only got away with breaking school rules—flying while Madam Hooch was gone—but was rewarded for it by being placed on the Quidditch team—incidentally, meaning another school rule was broken for him—the last thing Draco expected to see was Potter standing in front of him holding Longbottom’s Remembrall.

If returning the Remembrall to Longbottom was the right thing to do, if Draco even looking at the thing for a minute was such a terrible thing to do, then how could Potter _not_ have returned it to his friend? How could he be offering it to Draco? Not that good of a friend after all. Not that Draco was surprised by _that_.

Draco didn’t need nor want the Remembrall.

It certainly wasn’t worth getting caught stealing something from Professor McGonagall over, but it never was about the toy. All Potter had to say was, ‘I dare you.’ Draco could pretend he wasn’t interested, but he was already plotting his way into McGonagall’s classroom. It’d be easy. He’d been pocketing things from stores since he was a toddler. He’d made a game of finding his way into the forbidden rooms in the Manor, when his parents forgot about him for too long. He had no wand until that year, and the doors had all been locked.

Potter didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he asked, ‘Are you game?’

‘Consider it done, Potter,’ Draco said with a smirk. In his mind, it already was.

Then Potter threw the Remembrall at him, providing further proof that _he_ also didn’t care about the toy. If Draco really were doing the dare _for_ it, then he no longer would have needed to complete the task with it in his possession. He caught it just before it would have hit his face, and arched an eyebrow at Potter as he held it up to see if Potter caught the implication of it.

Potter simply glared.

Dense, as always.

Snape glided into the room, glaring at them suspiciously and telling them to take their seats. If only he’d been there a second earlier, Potter would have lost a few house points. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he sat down to concentrate on Potions.

For three days, Draco considered not doing the dare at all.

Potter seemed to have forgotten all about it: the dare and his friend’s Remembrall. So why should he go through with it? But then the stupid thing kept going off every time he touched it. Draco hadn’t forgotten anything. He knew what he was supposed to do; it was just pointless. What did he get out of sneaking into McGonagall’s classroom? Plus, what could he steal that Potter would accept came from her room as oppose to him simply buying it from a catalogue?

At the weekend, he decided to sneak in just to prove that he could. He left early from supper and snuck off to the classroom. It was locked, and he tried every spell he knew. Then he tried the hairpins he’d stolen from Pansy. It was time consuming, and he kept having to abandon his task when he heard footsteps down the hallway.

Eventually he found her door was spelled for that method as well. His father never protected for the manual method. Which meant he had no choice, he had to study new methods. It only took him two days of study to find a spell that worked.

Like all the good spells, it was old and forgotten.

When he stepped into the classroom, it was quiet but there was plenty of light streaming through the windows. Draco loved empty rooms. There was no one there to tell him to keep his hands to himself. As he walked toward her desk, he let himself wander around the shelves and touch everything that caught his interest, making sure to put it back just where it had been prior him examining it.

Her desk was clean. Nothing useless laying about it to snatch. The top drawers of her desk were locked, but the larger ones toward the bottom were not. However, they were practically empty. Just scrolls of empty parchment, ink, and extra quills. Nothing that said it belonged to _her_. He abandoned the desk and went back to the bookcases.

A book could work, but he imagined Potter would accuse him of simply taking it from the library or already owning it himself no matter how old or rare the book was. Potter didn’t know enough of their world to know the difference. Still, Draco picked at one book or another flipping through them, hoping—yes, something she had written on.

He pulled out the loose piece of paper, a short thank you note she forgot send off with her signature on it.

Perfect.

Just like the look on Potter’s face, when he handed it to him with the Remembrall the next day with a dare of his own:

‘Your turn, Potter.’ He waited until Potter looked up from the parchment and their eyes met. ‘Dare you to spill something on Professor Snape during our next class.’

Potter hesitated, but after a beat, his expression was set into the familiar look of contempt he usually wore when facing Draco; then he snatched the Remembrall out of Draco’s hand, and stormed off in his usual Gryffindorish manner.

Listening to his angry footsteps didn’t feel as good as Draco had imagined it would, but he was sure that would change once Harry’d lost a few more house points.

#

Vincent and Greg were playing Exploding Snap when Draco came into the Common Room from—well, wherever it was that he went off to by himself. He looked paler than usual, so Vincent asked if he was okay only to receive a gross hand gesture in return as Draco stalked passed them toward their dorm room. Vincent rolled his eyes and went back to his and Greg’s game.

‘See,’ Greg said. ‘That’s why I never bother asking.’

He shrugged in response. Vincent didn’t like wherever it was that Draco went off to, because he generally came back in either a great mood that he refused to talk about or a sour one that he also refused to talk about. He couldn’t decide which he mood preferred. He didn’t like being left out of a good thing, but wasn’t eager to hear about a bad one either. Vincent wondered if he had a girlfriend he wasn’t telling them about, because Draco acted much like how Vincent’s older brother did after seeing his girlfriend; it was always one extreme or the other.

Greg lacked the curiousness that Vincent had. If Vincent didn’t ask the questions, then they wouldn’t get asked at all. He didn’t wonder and mocked Vincent every time he wondered something aloud. So he wouldn’t agree to follow Draco with Vincent all of the previous year—their first year at Hogwarts— when he’d first noticed Draco’s disappearances, and Vincent knew better than to bring it up again.

Until that evening, Vincent had thought it—whatever it was—was over, because Draco hadn’t shrugged them off to be by himself at all their second year. Draco _had_ just made Seeker on the Slytherin House’s Quidditch team that morning. It seemed like the type of news he’d want to share with a girlfriend, if he _had_ one.

Vincent knew better than to ask about it, so he waited.

It only took a couple of weeks before Draco made some illogical excuse— _the stars look bright tonight, I think I’ll take a walk_ —and hurried out of the Common Room. Vincent was quick behind him, and he ignored the snort Greg gave as he hurried past him. If he stopped, he’d lose Draco.

It was a good thing Draco was lost in his thoughts, because Vincent wasn’t as quiet in his pursuit of him as he wanted to be. He was also lucky that Draco went for his walk when many of the older students were still in the halls going from one place to another. He had to hide behind an older student more than once.

Draco _did_ go outside for a walk. It was cold though, so he didn’t stay out for very long. He also didn’t look at the stars once. He seemed to be looking for someone—perhaps his girlfriend theory was right—but didn’t know where they were; which shot a big hole in his theory, because surely he’d know where they’d planned to meet if there was a _planned_ meeting.

Vincent was hiding, as well as he could, in the shadows, when Draco past by Potter and his friends on their way out of the library. To Vincent’s, and it seemed as well to Weasley’s, surprise, other than a slight glare at Potter, Draco pretended they weren’t there.

He didn’t insult any of them.

‘Not as brave all by yourself?’ Weasley said.

Malfoy sneered and said, ‘Shut up, Weasley.’

Vincent prepared to reveal himself if Weasley tried anything. He’d think up some reason to be close to the library—he could say he was wanting a book. Err, or needing a book; Draco probably wouldn’t be fooled by him _wanting_ one. Reading for enjoyment was more Draco’s thing. Vincent liked to listen to the stories, but he wasn’t too fond of solitary entertainment; he preferred company.

Potter and Granger pulled Weasely away before he could start anything, and then Vincent looked around for another place to hide farther down the hallway. The trio past him without seeing him and then rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and Draco . . . hadn’t moved?

Vincent held his breath; sure, he’d been caught, and waited for Draco to say something.

A few more students left the library, and Draco pretended to be heading toward the library door, until they too turned down the hall. Then Potter came running back around the corner, heading right toward Draco.

Vincent pulled out his wand and took a step out of the shadows when he heard:

‘We’ve got to be quick; I told them I left my book in the library.’

Draco smirked as he pulled something out of his pocket. It was too small for Vincent to see what it was, but he handed it to Potter and said, ‘I dare you to make Granger’s potion explode in our next Potions class.’

Potter hesitated, but then put the thing in his pocket. ‘Always Potions with you; are you scared not to have Snape there to protect you if we get caught?’ Potter walked backwards as he spoke, and then turned and ran to catch up with his friends before Draco could answer.

‘No,’ Draco mumbled to himself. ‘Snape’s the only one that doesn't let you get away with everything, is all.’

Later, when Greg asked Vincent what he’d found out, he’d said that Greg was right, and it wasn’t worth the worry; he’d mind his own business from then on. Mostly, it simply confused him, and he didn’t know how to explain it to Greg. When he asked, ‘Was it a girlfriend?’

Vincent said, ‘I think, sort of.’

#

‘You what!’ Draco took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It was after curfew, and he didn’t want to get caught.

‘Listen,’ Potter said. ‘It’s not that big of a deal; I got—’

Draco was furious. ‘Not that big of a deal?’ He had his wand out ready to hex him. Of course, it wasn’t important to _Potter_. All Draco had ever been to him was a _game_. It had been over two years since their first flying lesson at Hogwarts, which had started this all. Which did not include Longbottom or Weasley or anyone else. The Remembrall was their thing. Yes, technically, it was Longbottom’s Remembrall. But the dares were something that tied Potter to Draco, outside of everything else, and losing the object that represented that was very much a _big deal_.

‘It wasn’t mine to keep—’ Potter had his hands out in front of him as though they’d protect him from whatever hex Draco sent his way.

‘Did he even ask for it back, you bloody prick? Or did you give it to him to have a way out—’

‘I’m not giving up on the dares!’

‘Your _friends_ are always getting in the way; they’re always more important to you than—’ Draco stopped in the middle of his rant as he took in Potter’s words. ‘You’re not?’ Draco let his wand arm drop to his side. 

‘No,’ Potter said, relief covering his face. ‘If you’d just listen. I got something better to replace it.’ Then he pulled out a brand new Snitch.

‘You couldn’t keep track of a Remembrall, how do you expect to be able to hold onto a Snitch?’ They were after all made to not be held on to.

Potter rolled his eyes. ‘With a spell.’ He held out the new Snitch. ‘I stole it from Madame Hooch this afternoon. I found a spell, and it should be easy. It just needs both of us to cast it and a bit of each of our blood—’

‘Blood!’ Draco backed away from Potter as though he were about to take it from him then.

‘Just a small drop.’ He pulled out a needle. ‘It won’t even hurt.’

Draco seriously doubted that, but Potter was already pricking his finger as if to show Draco how painless drawing blood was. Draco tentatively took a step forward. If Potter did it, then he would have to as well.

‘Come on, Malfoy,’ Potter said, stepping closer. ‘Are you game?’

Draco folded his arms across his chest. ‘You have to do _two_ dares in a row for losing the Remembrall and forcing me to be a part of such a barbaric spell.’

‘Fine.’ Then Potter grabbed his hand and stuck it with the needle, while Draco was still thinking about _what_ the dares should be. Potter didn’t let go of Draco’s hand as he fished a piece of parchment out of his robes and laid it flat on the desk next to him. He brushed Draco’s bleeding finger over the words written on it and then did the same with his already bleeding finger.

Draco was too focused on the tingling that shot through his arm when Potter grabbed his hand to think about the pain from the cut. Potter and he recited the spell together, and the words _are you game_ appeared on the Snitch.

‘So, what will the dares be then?’

Still in a daze Draco said, ‘Steal something from Madam Sprout.’ He was brought back to his senses from Harry chuckling at the dare. Draco looked down at his finger, which had already stopped bleeding, but still stung. ‘And the second one: steal Mrs Norris’s food.’

#

Children grew up, of course. Narcissa didn’t expect her fourteen year old son to tell her everything about his life, but he was keeping something specific from her and that thought bothered her a lot. A few days before Christmas, they all sat in the in the sitting room lost in their own activities. Her with her needle point, Draco with his journal, and Lucius with the newest Auror Easton novel. 

‘I didn’t know you were friends with Potter.’ Narcissa tried to say it nonchalantly as though it was of no consequence who any of his friends were.

He began to scribble harder into his journal. ‘Because, I’m not.’ 

Narcissa didn’t like the anger in his voice as he said it. ‘Vincent said something about seeing the two of you talking?’ She’d walked in on the conversation between the two of them the day before.

Draco stilled. ‘We’d just run into each other in the hallway. We were fighting, not talking.’

It wasn’t the same excuse he’d given Vincent, but his lying didn’t bother her as much as the blush that began to take over his face. She knew that Draco was interested in boys, and that didn’t bother her, but this _particular_ boy could cause a lot of trouble. And it seemed already caused her son a lot of heartache, if the teasing from Vincent she’d overheard had any truth to it. 

‘Good,’ Lucius said without even looking up from his book. ‘That boy is nothing but trouble.’

Reminded of Lucius’s presence, Narcissa waited until he left for a meeting, before she broached the subject again. 

‘This _fighting_ with Potter doesn’t have any correlation with the house points you’ve been losing this year, does it? Your father was most displeased when he’d heard you’d lost one hund—’

‘They have nothing to do with each other,’ Draco said quickly, before closing his book and excusing himself. She nodded him off, but before he could make it out the door she said, ‘running away from a conversation doesn’t make the situation disappear.’

He paused at the door. ‘I know.’ Then he was gone.

It was so very hard watching her only child make mistakes, especially as he made so many of them with his parents in mind. How ever this ended, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

#

Pansy didn’t learn about the dares, until the Inquisitorial Squad.

Draco was late for a meeting, and when he came in just as it was ending he mentioned a brush with death; he almost fell off the stairs of the owlery. She was livid when she heard Vincent and Greg joking about Draco’s girlfriend, who was surely the cause of it. Draco’d refused to date Pansy, because he’d said he wasn’t interested in dating _anyone_. Though once she found out what they were really talking about—Vincent had once thought the dares with Potter was Draco sneaking around with a girlfriend; it was not a real relationship—she wished it had been a girlfriend. 

A girlfriend was so much simpler.

‘How could you, Draco,’ was all she could think to say.

He’d lied to all his friends for years, lost house points, put himself in danger for what? A dangerous game with an enemy? Which was bound to get more dangerous, with what their parents had begun whispering about when they thought the children weren’t listening.

She told him, ‘You can’t be his friend.’

‘We’re _not_ friends.’

‘Then what are you?’

She began to see what Vincent and Greg has seen since their first year. Draco sneaking off by himself and returning pale, hollow, and sometimes covered in bruises or blood. Sometimes smirking in self satisfaction despite the blood.

‘The blood and bruises are new,’ Greg said when she asked them: how could they ignore this for so long?

Vincent responded with, ‘What do you expect us to do?’

‘Stop him.’

But it was impossible to stop him. 

As Pansy healed Draco’s broken knuckles after he punched a stone wall repeatedly until they bled, she saw that no one had control over the situation anymore; not even Draco. Potter blew up the girls’ toilet a few days later. How they both didn’t get expelled by the end of the year, Pansy could never figure out. Umbridge was on the war path, but she never suspected Draco. She was thwarted every time she came close to expelling Potter.

Pansy caught them once, just like Vincent had she’d followed Draco. She marched up to them as Potter handed a small object to Draco and said, ‘I dare you to ride a Thestral.’

‘Stop this,’ Pansy said and tried to grab the thing out of Draco’s hand, but he pocketed as he held her back. ‘You’ll kill yourselves if you don’t stop this.’

Potter smiled at her. ‘Maybe neither of us are afraid of death.’

#

‘I dare you to be brave,’ Potter said, his eyes never leaving Draco’s as they stared at each other through the mirror.

What did Potter know about being brave? Had he ever had to watch his father get tortured, until he vomited all over their sitting room rug? Did he ever have to live with a dictator in his home watching his every move, looking for a reason to punish him? Did he know what Cruciatus felt like after ten minutes?

Draco had his next dare in mind, but he wasn’t going to wait for his turn this time. He grabbed the Snitch and shoved it into his pocket, before he spun and aimed the curse at Potter’s chest. Before the words had left his mouth, Potter’s counter curse hit him slamming him into the ground.

The pain in his chest blocked everything else around him out. Draco woke up hours later in the infirmary. His chest was wrapped up tight. It still stung; both inside and out.

He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the cold metal of the Snitch still there. He held on to it as he fell back to sleep. He had more important things to do than play this game with Potter. He needed to forget about Potter, to rest, to heal, and to finish his mission.

#

‘What did you expect?’ Blaise asked as he smoked a cigarette in the Malfoy Manor sitting room. ‘For the war to end and everything to go back to the way it was before?’

It wasn’t fair of him, Blaise knew that, but Draco needed to face the truth. Potter wasn’t going to owl him. He’d already returned Draco’s wand to him right after the battle at Hogwarts, and Draco’s angry shut down of any conversation that could have happened in that moment. Draco and Potter weren’t friends. Their games might have felt friendly in the beginning before they became dangerous, but they weren’t about friendship even then. As much as Draco wanted them to be, they had never been about that.

‘I didn’t expect that.’ 

They both knew that a part of Draco at least hoped it would. He wanted Potter to storm in and fight for him. Even if the only person he had to fight was Draco. Instead, Draco threw up every time he tried to use his wand. He jumped in anticipation every time an owl came near him, only to be disappointed.

Draco sat fiddling with his wand, not looking at Blaise. Blaise plucked the wand out of his hands and set it down on the table next to Draco. ‘Why don’t we take a vacation?’

‘A vacation to where?’

‘I don’t care.’

So they started in Italy. Blaise had family there, and Draco had never been. Then they travelled through Spain and spent some time in Japan, because they were places that neither of them had ever been. Finally they ended up in Switzerland, where Draco had travelled a lot as a child. 

Blaise used magic for them both, when it was needed.

He pushed Draco to use his wand again, even when it caused them to fight.

Blaise held him as he shook and vomited after every time he tried to use magic.

He held him until he only shook, and then until he no longer did.

Draco had never been the type to say thank you, and Blaise never expected it of him. But after a year it was clear that Draco didn’t need him anymore, and Blaise was bored with travelling. He wanted to go home and start his life. He was tired of running from it. Draco might have been fine with magic again, but he wasn’t ready for England.

Blaise kissed Draco before he left. He wasn’t as disappointed as he thought he’d be that that was all it was: a goodbye kiss.

#

Draco hadn’t realised he’d been waiting for a letter from Potter, until he received it. His body relaxed into a relieved _finally_ as he opened it. He still had the Snitch, the letter said. So Draco invited him to Zurich. He was surprised that Potter actually came, but not as surprised that he found accommodations of his own instead of joining Draco in his.

He didn’t see the point of Potter pretending he was doing anything other than meeting up with him—did he think he was being followed?

It was well known that he lived as a Muggle since the war. Draco had a slight regression with his own magic after Blaise left to return to England, and only used magic when necessary. It wasn’t as bad as it had been at first; he didn’t collapse shaking and crying, but he avoided it for a few months. Then he slowly allowed himself to be comfortable with it again. He knew how to live as a Muggle just as well as Potter by the time they’d meet in Muggle pub in Zurich.

They started the dares before they left the pub that evening.

Draco saw Potter around town and they nodded to each other, but they didn’t spend any time together until one or the other of them finished a dare. Then they’d dare the other one, and separate again for a few days. As much as Potter still kept Draco at a distance, Draco half expected Weasley and Granger to appear in the street one day walking with Potter. So Draco asked on one of the rare occasions they were together, what his friends thought he was up to. Did they know he was out there with Draco?

‘I told them,’ Potter said, ‘that I needed a vacation. They all seemed to agree.’

‘Did they ask why you chose Zurich?’

Potter laughed. ‘I think they were just too happy that I was leaving the house to think too much about where I was headed to be honest.’

It wasn’t long after that Draco became very tired of Zurich. He’d been there over a year after all. Not so much a holiday at that point. Potter was treating it as though he really were vacationing in Zurich and not visiting Draco there. He even did the tourist bit.

So Draco made arrangements for them to go to Paris: _together_.

#

Jean-Marc had never flirted with a customer before. It was not acceptable, and certainly not worth his job. Anyone that was interested in him wouldn’t be interested in more than using him for the night. But then _he_ walked in. He walked with elegance and his features were fine, but what really made the man stand out was who accompanied him. The man he sat with was an underdressed mess from his unruly, black hair to his trainers.

Paris was called the most romantic city in the world, and though the restaurant saw a lot of lovers, it wasn’t a stranger to the occasional man or woman who didn’t appreciate the romance their partner was giving them in such a fine place.

The unruly, black haired man’s expressions varied from annoyed to angry. With every eye roll he gave his lover, the less Jean-Marc cared about what was appropriate. 

Though the gorgeous, blond man was obviously English, he spoke perfect French. Jean-Marc smiled as he listened to the man speak. He wanted to asked him his name, but knew it would be inappropriate. He tried not to let his jealousy show on his face as he asked for the other man’s order, but judging by the glare Jean-Marc received he’d failed.

As the night wore on, the more Jean-Marc’s confidence grew that he was flirting back with him, so he scribbled his number on the back of the check— which, of course, the blond man paid for, and the unruly, black haired man didn’t even glance at. 

He saw them begin to fight as soon as they made it out the door.

It should only be a few days at most, Jean-Marc thought, before they fell apart completely.

#

Draco should have known better than to push Potter to use his magic. He’d been through it himself before, but it had been years since the war. So he dared him to steal a lock, right then and there, knowing he’d have to use magic to accomplish it.

Because it was a dare, Potter did it. Draco hadn’t expected him to bolt, but he ran after him when he did. When Potter stopped in an alley to vomit, Draco stupidly tried to make a joke out of it. Blaise used to joke about it all the time, and though Draco never would admit it, it had made him feel a slight bit better. And they fought, like they always did.

He backed off and didn’t try anything like that again. Instead, they fell into kind of a routine, where the dares weren’t controlling their relationship but in the background keeping them from getting bored. Draco paid for everything, except when Potter went off to buy something for himself that Draco never would. Draco found an odd sense of enjoyment out of that. There was a lot of trust involved with living with someone and depending on them, and he liked the idea that Potter trusted him. He also enjoyed the familiarity of their days.

Until they became bored.

Potter was scandalised at the idea of the North Pole, but he agreed to go.

They were going from one romantic getaway to another, and Draco tried to be satisfied with that and not think about how unaware Potter was. He tried not to think about how very much of their relationship was not a romance.

#

Many people came to stay and see the Northern Lights around Christmastime. Families, groups of friends, and more often lovers. Lizzy knew she shouldn’t gossip and none of their lives were her business, but some couples were hard not to watch.

The boys, as all the staff called them, were one of such couples.

The two men were complete opposites from their hair and eyes to their clothing and posture. Their love for each other was obvious, but their habits were often strange.

‘They went swimming . . .’ One of the groundskeepers, Amond, said.

‘What?’ Lizzy asked. ‘Where?’

He gestured outside to one of the brochures about the lakes—the frozen lakes— and then shrugged at her sceptical expression. ‘Some people like that sort of thing.’ He shrugged. ‘After all, they stayed in one of the igloos for two weeks.’

‘That’s not so odd with young lovers, though,’ she said. ‘I doubt they had any trouble keeping themselves both occupied and warm.’

Amond blushed. He didn’t like talking about such things. She’d been the one to tell the darker haired man about them, and he did have the oddest expression of excitement after she mentioned it. He wasn’t very chatty, though. A few days later when she asked him if they were planning on coming to the Christmas feast he seemed very caught off guard and mumbled something before he ran off.

She didn’t seem them again until the New Year’s Eve banquet.

The best thing about New Year’s Eve was watching all the people in love kiss enmass when the clock struck midnight. Even the most reserved couples kissed then, and _the boys_ though obvious by the looks they gave each other kept all physical contact private.

Amond was beside her and chuckled when she caught sight of them kissing near the back of the room. 

‘What?’ she asked.

‘You always look so excited watching other people in love.’

‘Isn’t it exciting?’

Amond smiled. ‘I think it is more exciting to _be_ the people in love.’

‘Well, it’s not as though you can just choose to be in love, of course—’

And then he kissed her.

#

After the first kiss, Draco couldn’t stop kissing Harry. For the first time, he let himself think of him as Harry. They left the banquet. He couldn’t go a few feet without pushing Harry up against the wall and kissing him again. The bedroom was simply too far away. He’d held himself back for far too long.

They stopped and made it a few more feet, before Draco had to kiss him again. Harry laughed as he let Draco stop him again. He kissed back just as hard, and then threaded his fingers threw Draco’s hair. Draco groaned at that instead of telling him to not touch his hair like he had said to many people in the past. It distracted him enough to break the kiss and drag him closer to their door. Only, once they got there, he stopped to kiss Harry again.

‘We’re here.’ Harry laughed as he tried to open the door with his back against it, and Draco kissing his neck.

Draco paused just long enough to say, ‘So we are.’ He used a bit of wandless magic and the door opened behind Harry, and they stumbled through the doorway and to the bed. Draco shoved him down upon it. They barely missed a beat as Draco climbed on top of Harry and they moved together as one.

Harry moved one of his hands down, and Draco thought he was undoing his pants, but then he had the Snitch in his hand, and he said, ‘Dare you to shag me.’

Draco stopped: kissing him, moving, thinking. The pain in his chest blocked everything else around him out. He pushed himself up and stared down at Potter. It was just a game.

He couldn’t take anymore of this game.

#

The wedding was plain yet elegant. Nothing at all like how Astoria would have planned it, if she had any choice in the matter. The wedding wasn’t for her, not really; it was for their families. Astoria wasn’t in love with Draco, and she knew he wasn’t in love with her. Their courtship was long and complicated. Their parents began talking while he was away; travelling for his health they’d said.

When he came back, it began. They were introduced and then their families dined together at least monthly. He never tried anything with her when they snuck off alone. It was to be expected; it was against the rules, but it never stopped her from hoping.

Harry’s letters stopped her from hoping. 

They’d been courting for over a year when she’d found them. Draco was so private and she wanted to learn about the man her parents wanted her to marry. She snuck into his room and found them in the drawer next to his bed. They were short and the paper thin as though Draco read them many times. It could have meant nothing. It could have been long over.

Still, Astoria did the only thing she could think to do. She asked his mother about it.

‘He never talked to me about,’ Narcissa said, ‘and when I ask, he lies.’

‘If we’re to be married—’

‘They haven’t seen each other in the entire time you’ve been courting.’ It was the best Narcissa had to offer, and it was then that Astoria knew it was a problem that hadn’t gone away yet. If it was nothing, something over and done with, Narcissa would have said so. She couldn’t let something like this happen without warning her parents, but they were unsympathetic.

‘You’re just trying to get out of this marriage.’ Her mother pressed her lips into an thin, disapproving line. ‘This is a good match, Astoria.’ 

‘But if—’

‘It’s been over a year, if Draco was going to run off with that boy, he would have already.’

It was then that Astoria’s father had saved her, at least for the time being, and said, ‘Perhaps we should extend the courtship and not announce the engagement for just a short time. Make sure the air is clear of his past relationships.’

That short time quickly turned into another year. 

Draco explained everything about their game and the dares, but he refused to even call Harry a friend and referred to him as Potter in every conversation.

Still, as Astoria walked down the aisle, she was not surprised to see Harry Potter there. He’d sent letters after their engagement was announced. Draco let her read them; they shared so much more with each other by then. But he refused to go to him, or call off the wedding. He wanted nothing to do with _Potter_ ever again.

‘You’re making a mistake,’ she’d said.

‘No,’ Draco said. ‘I’m making up for a lifetime of mistakes.’

Astoria tried the only thing she could think of then. ‘I dare you.’

Draco shook his head at her. ‘It doesn’t work like that.’

‘You mean it only works for him.’

Harry didn’t even try to look like part of the crowd and stood out in his Muggle jeans and trainers. As she passed him on her way down the aisle, she smiled at him, but he was too focused on Draco to see her. Her hands sweated around her bouquet of roses as she waited for Harry to make his presence known. Harry was her last chance _out_ of this awkward position she was in.

Draco’s eyes were wide when he saw Harry walking towards him. When Harry threw the Snitch at him, Astoria breathed a sigh of relief. Draco caught it just before it would have hit him.

‘I dare you,’ Harry said, ‘not to marry.’

#

Draco stormed out of the wedding with everyone’s eyes on his back. He couldn’t breathe and _had_ to get away. He knew Potter was just behind him, but he ran through the trees until he came to a clearing before he turned to face him.

‘I dare you to go the fuck away!’ 

He threw the stupid toy back at Potter who caught it effortlessly, and said, ‘No.’

‘What the fuck do you care, Potter?’ It had been years, and all he did was send a few owls. Too little, much too late. Draco was beyond exhausted with it all. ‘Just go.’

‘I—’ Potter breaks off, and runs his hand through his hair causing it to stick up even more at the same time as making Draco want to kiss him again. ‘I care about you, okay?’ 

Draco falls back into the grass, and mumbles to himself, ‘Oh, fuck no.’ How could being in his presence bring back those feelings so quickly? He wanted so desperately to be over this. They weren’t good for each other. Draco had thought once that they could be, but Potter proved that even intimacy between them would be part of the game. ‘Just. Piss off, Potter.’

‘No.’ Potter stepped toward him. ‘You’re better than this.’

‘You don’t know me.’ Which was increasingly evident given how long it took for Potter to see that their relationship was more than a game to Draco, and yet even more that he _still_ hadn’t figured out that Draco didn’t want to be his _friend_.

And then he was yelling again, and Potter was yelling back. Their fighting was so routine, he didn’t even have to think about the words; they simply tumbled out of his mouth. Yes, yes, Potter _tried_ to apologise, he was sorry, but that wasn’t enough. Not after everything. The pain in his chest blocked everything else around him out, and then Draco said the one thing he didn’t want to say:

‘I was fucking in love with you.’

There. It was out there and Potter couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist anymore. That it didn’t matter, because it was just a game. Potter didn’t say it back, but he didn’t leave either.

Draco asked, ‘What the fuck do you want?’ because he knew it wasn’t him, and they needed to end this—whatever this was—so he could move on with his life.

Then Potter started talking again, but he wasn’t saying what Draco wanted him to say. It wasn’t a closure, but it wasn’t a confession either. It was a small step towards where Draco wanted Potter to be years ago. Too much time had passed for them to be taking small steps. He needed and wanted more from him. Not just _I care about you_ , but something more like:

‘The way you make me feel, that’s worth saving.’

Somewhere during their conversation, Potter took his hands, and Draco looked down at them when he felt his own begin to tremble. Draco started to say his name, to try to stop him, but Potter leaned into him, resting his forehead against Draco’s. All Draco could see were his eyes, and being engulfed in the smell of him made it difficult to think. 

Then Potter said all the right things and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very welcome. You may leave them here or over at [Livejournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/82352.html%20%20).


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